


My True Love Gave to Me

by Jaina (effervescible)



Category: Lupin III
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:22:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effervescible/pseuds/Jaina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not even Christmas, but someone has already decided to send Fujiko a memorable gift...or twelve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My True Love Gave to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gusty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gusty/gifts).



By the second knock at the door, Fujiko had a gun in her hand. It wasn’t that she was expecting dangerous company; rather, it was the fact that she wasn’t expecting any company that made her wary. After the job she’d just pulled off in Munich, she’d opted for some private time at an Undisclosed Location, which just happened to be a very expensive spa known for its private villas and to-die-for facials. And because of the job she’d just pulled off, she could _afford_ the very private spa, where she planned to get (more) gorgeous and count her money until the heat died down.

The key concept was _private_. No one knew she was there; no one should be knocking at her villa’s front door now. And yet!

She opened the door a crack and peered out, keeping the gun out of sight but ready to use. “What is i—“

“Delivery for Ms. Kitty Keller!”

Fujiko just stared at the deliveryman who stood on the front step of the villa, a small potted tree a little shorter than her in front of him. “What?”

“That’s you, right?” He thrust a clipboard at her. “Sign here.”

“It’s me,” she said slowly, taking it from him. It was; however, she hadn’t used that alias for years, and no one knew it these days.

Except…

She signed the name with a flourish and took a closer look at the tree. “There’s a bird in it,” she said flatly. Or, more specifically, on it; a small golden cage hung from one branch.

“It’s a partridge,” the deliveryman said cheerfully, and elbowed past her to carry the tree inside. “There you go. You have a good day, miss.”

Once he was gone, she leaned in close to examine the tree. It was okay, she supposed, as trees went. The birdcage was better—that was actual gold, if she was a good judge of precious things. And she was. “Lupin,” she muttered scornfully, although the corners of her mouth turned up at the ends. “What are you up to now?”

-

“Come on,” Fujiko muttered as she stared into the binoculars. “Anytime now…”

Stakeouts were for the birds. Her particular talents could be put to much better use, but in her line of work it was an occupational hazard. And worth it, if she could confirm that the crown prince of some tiny European country was really on his way into the city. From her vantage point on this roof, if she spotted his entourage then she would know where he was headed and have an edge on figuring out how to nab the crown jewels he’d brought with him on this ‘goodwill tour.’

A sudden small rush of wind brushed her hair off one shoulder, but it wasn’t until she heard a chirping sound that she looked up with irritation—and then just stared. A pair of doves sat on the parapet she was crouching beside.

One carried a rolled-up paper tied to its leg. They weren’t just doves; they were _trained_ doves. Apparently very well-trained at that; the one that carried the message extended a leg, and she reached for it automatically even as she half-expected it to peck her. Birds really weren’t her thing.

The paper had her name on the top. Below it was a shrunk-down photocopy of the prince’s royal itinerary, along with a description of where the jewels were being held and what security procedures were in place. It was the sort of thing she might have made for herself when planning a heist in advance.

She crumpled it up and shooed the doves away. She didn’t need Lupin’s help for this; she was good enough to pull off the job on her own, and he might expect her to share if she used his help.

Still…it was thoughtful of him. In an annoying, patronizing sort of way.

-

An old movie—boring. Rerun of some sitcom—boring.

Sprawled across the bed, Fujiko yawned and debated taking a nap. She wasn’t tired, but there wasn’t anything interesting to watch and there wasn’t anything interesting to steal.

She clicked over to the news. It might not be interesting, but at least it was new.

“—and in a daring robbery today, a coop of prizewinning chickens was stolen from the county fair—“

She clicked off the news. No, chickens weren’t interesting at all. Who cared what happened to them if they weren’t dinner?

There was a knock at the door.

Fujiko held her breath for a good twenty seconds before letting it out. No way. She was just being paranoid.

There was a muted cluck.

“No way. No WAY!”

Stomping to the door, she flung it open to see a small crate. A chicken poked its head out of one of the holes that had been punched in the side, followed by another, and another. There was a tiny French flag hanging from the top.

She nearly kicked the crate, but she wasn’t cruel to animals. And if she ate them later, she didn’t want them bruised.

“Why is it always _birds?_ ”

-

Fujiko could be a morning person when she had to be, but that wasn’t usually the morning after a rough job when she needed her beauty sleep. Or any sleep, for that matter. When the first bird’s trill rang through the air, she rolled over. When a second joined it, she shoved a pillow over her head. When the third came, encouraging the first two and reminding a fourth that it should get in on the act, she let out a shriek of anger and leaped to her feet, sheet barely wrapped around herself.

“What the hell is that racket?!” Flinging the balcony doors open, she didn’t notice or give a damn about the startled pedestrians below her. In turn, the targets of her wrath ignored her as they continued their song.

Tropical birds of paradise. Four of them.

“LUPIN!”

-

When the five 17carat gold rings were delivered by special courier, she forgave Lupin everything.

When she found half a dozen geese followed by even more swans walking around outside her latest bolthole, cursed his name even harder.

-

It had been a good night, Arsene Lupin III mused to himself as he slowly worked his way up from pleasant dreams of Fujiko and orange soda. It must have been, because he felt incredibly relaxed as he awoke; that pleasant sort of awakening that you got after getting rid of all tension the night before, whether that came through a really good party, a certain amount of enjoyable private time—

— _or being drugged,_ a helpful voice in the back of his mind added. And Lupin hadn’t become the world’s best thief who Pops would never catch by ignoring his intuition. He opened his eyes and sat up.

Or tried to, because he couldn’t move his wrists, which seemed to be suspended over his head. Nor his feet. He could lift his head, but that didn’t help much when the rest of him was stuck. Still, any port in a storm, so he did his best. He was in a room he didn’t recognize with décor he did; this was still the same hotel he’d been hiding out in this week, at least. And he was tied to the head and base boards of the bed—with strands of Christmas lights.

They must have been plugged in at one end; colorful lights twinkled merrily, lending a certain festive cheer to the room. All things considered, he’d had worse awakenings.

There was a creak from off to the side, and a beautiful (and stacked) angel stepped out from the bathroom. “Merry Christmas Eve, Lupin,” Fujiko purred.

“Surprised?”

Lupin stared. After an attempt or three, he managed to pick up his jaw and reply. “Surprised doesn’t cover it, baby,” he said. No, he definitely hadn’t expected to wake up tied to a bed with Fujiko standing there dressed like Santa Claus—except Santa wore a suit, not a red velvet mini-dress that didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. “I’m sure I’ve had a dream like this before, but if that’s what’s happening, don’t wake me up, okay?”

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes and stepped closer. Not close enough for him, but it was a start. “You really should pay more attention to the bartender when you’re enjoying yourself, Lupin. Even if you think he’s an ugly old man.” She lifted a hand and for the first time he noticed the rubber mask that hung from one finger. “You never know what he might slip into your drink.”

“Hey, can you blame me? You don’t make a very good man, Fujikins.”

“Good enough to fool you. It was worth it, after the time it took to track you down.” She cocked her head to the side and smirked. It was an incredibly appealing expression on her, he thought, but then, most expressions were. “Jigen and Goemon held up for quite a while, you know. I almost had to bribe them with a lot more than I wanted. But when I threatened to send all your ‘gifts’ back to them, they caved. I guess they don’t like birds.” She crossed her arms and frowned. “The twelve days of Christmas, Lupin? Really? Is that all you could come up with?”

He grinned. “Hey, you have to give me points for originality. Aren’t you even a little sentimental?” He already knew the answer to that, but it was worth a shot. “That song is a classic.”

“Not really.” She stalked closer, and this time he wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. “ _Birds_ , Lupin. I don’t care how classic the stupid song is. Do you really think I wanted a whole flock of birds pooping on my things? And not just one time! I’ve been stalked by birds for weeks! The twelve days of Christmas are supposed to be twelve days in a row, you idiot!”

He gulped. Fujiko was beautiful when she was angry, Fujiko was sexy when she was angry. Unfortunately, Fujiko was also dangerous when she was angry. “I don’t suppose I can defend myself by saying it all would’ve been worth it if you’d let me finish my grand plan?”

“Maybe. Is there any way it _wouldn’t_ have ended with a ridiculous floor show and feathers everywhere?” He was silent. “Thought so. Tell me, what made you start this ridiculous stunt in the first place?”

He flashed his best debonair-cad grin. At this point, it was his only hope. “It’s just my romantic soul, baby.”

Fujiko stared back at him. Then her lip twitched. Then she began to laugh, a little harder each second until she was half-doubled over. “Lupin, you’re an idiot,” she declared, and then it was time for him to be surprised again, because she walked over to the bed, leaned down, and kissed him hard.

Merry Christmas indeed.

“You’re an idiot,” she said again, her breath soft against his lips. “But at least you’re not a boring idiot.”

“That’s me, the entertaining idiot,” he said cheerfully, and wriggled against his bonds. “Why don’t you let me loose and I’ll entertain you a little more?”

Fujiko shook her head. “Sorry,” she said, backing off. “You’re entertaining, all right. But you’re just not a challenge, Lupin. Honestly, what kind of lesson would I be teaching you? But don’t worry. I asked the maid to come check on you in about twelve hours if you haven’t worked yourself free by then.”

“Thanks a bunch.” He sighed, disappointed but not really surprised. He’d never really expected this to get real results anyway, but it was funny what drunken discussions and lost bets with your friends could yield. “What about you?”

“Me? I’ll be catching a flight to Spain.” She winked. “There’s a big job I’ve got in mind there. I’d invite you to join me for half the take, but since you’re all tied up…” She waved and turned to leave, grabbing a trench coat from a table beside the door on the way out. “Later, Lupin.”

And he was alone.

He made a few cursory attempts at freeing himself, but the lights were tight and pointy and hell, they were even kind of pretty. Why not enjoy a nap and let the maid spring him in a few hours?

On the other hand, Fujiko had said she liked a challenge. Maybe that went both ways—he was pretty sure she liked beinga challenge, too.

Spain, huh? That was a sloppy detail to let slip. Unless it wasn’t.

Lupin began wriggling. This shouldn’t take more than an hour. If he could catch up to her, maybe they’d have a chance to celebrate Christmas together after all. If not, that was all right, too. He’d make it eventually. And like they said—it was the thought that counted.


End file.
